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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25716673">Heartbeat</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverEclipse119/pseuds/SilverEclipse119'>SilverEclipse119</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A little bit of blood, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I think that tag counts, Panic Attacks, being followed, brief mention of a knife, thunder storm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:27:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,338</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25716673</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverEclipse119/pseuds/SilverEclipse119</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Usually, when anxiety needs help, he goes to the brain. Sometimes, the brain brings him to the heart.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Heartbeat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <b>Warnings:</b>
</p><ul>
<li>Panic attacks</li> 
<li>A little bit of blood</li> 
<li>Character being followed</li> 
<li>brief mention of a knife</li> 
<li>Thunder storm</li>
<li>Several mentions of internal organs: all of said organs are in their place and functioning properly, but I know a few people who are squeamish about even talking about organs so I wanted to add a warning.</li>
</ul><p>Let me know if I missed anything. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Thomas is in danger.”</p><p> </p><p>Logan turns from his desk, alerted by the unconventional (but familiar) greeting.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean, Virgil?”</p><p> </p><p>“Thomas is in danger.” Virgil repeats through tightly clenched teeth. His hand is loosely settled against his chest, rising and falling with his heavy breath.</p><p> </p><p>Logan offers his hands to Virgil, palms up to assure the nervous side that they are empty. Virgil takes them, and his grip digs into Logan’s curling fingers. Logan guides Virgil to his bed, keeping his face calmly neutral as they both sit.</p><p> </p><p>“What is the danger, Virgil?”</p><p> </p><p>“Can’t you hear it? The wind?” </p><p> </p><p>As if to prove his point, a gust of wind howls past Thomas’s apartment. Branches slap against the windows and sand crackles as it beats against the outer walls of the building.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a loud storm, Virgil. The weather app did say we were under an extreme thunderstorm watch.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a tornado.” Virgil’s nails bite a little into Logan’s palms, but not hard enough to break the skin. “The whole apartment is going to be sucked up like in The Wizard of Oz, except instead of going to Oz Thomas is just going to be dead.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re not under a tornado warning, Virgil.” Logan tries to reason with the panicking side, but he doesn’t make much headway before Thomas’s living room is flooded with the light of a nearby lightning strike. Virgil almost jumps out of his skin at the following thunder crash. He leans forward against Logan’s shoulder, shaking his hair down as if he thinks his bangs can hide him from the storm.</p><p> </p><p>“Update,” Virgil groans. “Lightning is going to strike the apartment and Thomas is going to burn to death in the resulting fire. Or maybe this killer storm will decide to be efficient and <em> he’ll </em> just be struck by lightning.”</p><p> </p><p>“Storms aren't sentient, Virgil. They don’t just decide to murder people.” Logan explains, but Virgil doesn’t really hear him. Lightning flashes and thunder cracks once again, and Virgil spirals into his own head.</p><p> </p><p>Virgil can feel it, the course of blood flowing phantom through his veins; it moves in a steady, burning stream: without a pump, no pulse or beat, just a constant hot motion. It is disturbing: how it roars past his ears, filling them with the rushing of fluid that should not be moving. His chest tightens, as if searching for the thump, thump, <em> thump </em>that has never been a part of him.</p><p> </p><p>Logan can tell that Virgil is almost ready to enter flight mode, but the last thing Thomas needs right now is to leave the apartment. He can’t get away from the storm by driving through it. He needs a distraction.</p><p> </p><p>“Virgil, do you think you could count down from two hundred for me? By twos, if you please.”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, yeah.” Virgil pulls back up to sitting as he tries to organise his thoughts. “Uh… two hundred… one hundred ninety eight… one hundred ninety six… one hundred ninety two... wait no, one hundred ninety <em> four </em>… one hundred ninety two… one hundred ninety… one hundred eighty eight…”</p><p> </p><p>Virgil’s breathing slows as he counts. Logan almost lets go of his hand to check his heart rate, but then he feels foolish when he remembers there's no point.</p><p> </p><p>The thunder cracks again, but Virgil is distracted enough that he does little more than flinch.</p><p> </p><p>Logan digs into his mind for a film Thomas hasn't watched in a while, something Virgil likes. In a few minutes, if the storm hasn’t passed yet, he intends on recommending a movie.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Thomas is in danger.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know, Virgil. Thank you for your vigilance.” Logan responds earnestly. “Do you remember how far back he showed up?”</p><p> </p><p>“Six blocks ago. He got off the same bus as him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Keep and eye on him. The library is up ahead.”</p><p> </p><p>Virgil is in full flight mode. He looks through Thomas’s peripheral at the figure in the dark hoodie. He’d had a bad feeling about this guy ever since he had side eyed Thomas on the bus. Now it seems that he is matching pace with Thomas, merely half a dozen feet behind. His hands are buried deep in his pockets, and Virgil sees a flash of metal for a brief second.</p><p> </p><p>“Logan, he has a knife.”</p><p> </p><p>“Almost there, Virgil.”</p><p> </p><p>Virgil feels adrenalin course through his steady flowing blood as he watches the amount of people around Thomas thin out.</p><p> </p><p>“Logan, we’re losing crowd cover.” Virgil’s voice pitches down as his tempest tongue begins to take over reflexively. He can feel his canines growing longer, sharper. He’s preparing for fight mode.</p><p> </p><p>“Just a few more steps.” Logan can feel his own blood sparking with adrenaline in response to Virgil’s ability. If he had a heartbeat, he’s sure it would skip at the sound of Virgil speaking in that tone. He half wonders what it feels like to have that <em> heart beating out of chest </em> feeling.</p><p> </p><p>The man in the hoodie quickens his pace, and his hand slides out of his pocket.</p><p> </p><p>“Logan!” Virgil barks, his voice echoing across Thomas’s brain.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re here!” </p><p> </p><p>Thomas steps through the sliding door of the library. A handful of people are sitting and chatting or reading in the front area. One of the librarians behind the desk waves in welcome, and Thomas waves back as he walks further into the building. The man in the hoodie takes a few more steps toward him, but balks when he locks eyes with the security guard sitting at her desk beside the checkout counter. The guard squints at him, and it is just enough to make him slide his hand back into his hoodie and slip back out the doors.</p><p> </p><p>Virgil takes some deep breaths while Logan instructs Thomas to make a phone call to one of his friends. After that is done, Logan sits down on his bed to take a breather of his own.</p><p> </p><p>Logan sees Virgil struggling to regain his composure, so he stretches his arms in an unsure gesture.</p><p> </p><p>Virgil accepts Logan’s open armed offer, falling against the teacher’s chest. Logan’s arms wrap around him in a slow, uncertain grasp, pulling him in loose. Logan’s body is rigid, and Virgil knows this part of comfort isn’t Logan’s strong suit, but he appreciates the effort. </p><p> </p><p>Virgil can hear Logan’s lungs through the wall of his chest. He can feel the expanding and contracting of Logan’s diaphragm, perfectly rhythmic, as all things that make up Logan are when Thomas is okay. Virgil times his own breathing to the steady pattern. </p><p> </p><p>And yet, he feels something is missing. Logan’s chest sounds familiarly hollow, just like his own. Each breath sounds like a bellow blowing against a fire in an open cave. Empty, echoing. Virgil places a hand back onto his own chest. He holds his breath for just a moment. Nothing moves within him. His body is silent.</p><p> </p><p>Logan places a hand over Virgil’s, at first wondering if something is hurting the anxious side. He realises painfully quickly what Virgil had been looking for. Now, Logan finds his own body feels too still. He wonders if he should say something, to at least add the vibration of his vocal cords to his breathing, but for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t know what to say.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Thomas is dying.”</p><p> </p><p>Logan stands abruptly from his bed; Thomas must have dozed off. He takes a deep breath and blinks the sleep from his eyes as he approaches the trembling side. “What is happening, Virgil?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t… I can’t…” Virgil’s hand is clutching his shirt so tightly that he is pinching the skin beneath it. He is gasping for breath, trying to get the words out. “He’s <em> dying </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Logan, for the life of him, can't figure out what brought this on. He reaches out his open hands, but Virgil turns away.</p><p> </p><p>“It hurts!” Virgil whimpers. His breathing is accompanied by an audible wheezing that echoes down to Thomas’s own lungs. Whatever has set this off is going to have to wait until Virgil is calm enough to talk about it.</p><p> </p><p>"Look at me, Virgil. Look at me." Logan all but pleads. "Breathe in for four seconds."</p><p> </p><p>If Virgil hears him, he doesn't listen. He is still gasping, his face growing paler under his foundation. His eyeshadow is trickling down his cheeks. After a particularly harsh breath, his teeth come slamming down on his lower lip, his elongated canines piercing deep into the skin. Blood drips down his chin.</p><p> </p><p>Virgil's vision begins to go blurry, clouded by purple smoke. Still, something is breaking through. He can hear a low, steady mumble repeating in his ear.</p><p> </p><p>"-gil, if ... me, … hand. Breathe..."</p><p> </p><p>Virgil tries to listen through the roar of his ears. </p><p> </p><p>"Virgil, if ... can -ar me, ... my hand. Breathe in… breathe out."</p><p> </p><p>Virgil sees the hand through the purple miasma. It is open, soft, nonthreatening; no concealed weapons, no indication of wanting a fight. He reaches out and grips it like a lifeline, wordlessly begging whoever it belongs to to pull him free of himself. To <em> please </em>help him, he must be drowning.</p><p> </p><p>He can’t feel his feet move. He can’t feel his lungs. He can’t feel the skin or the hand he is gripping so hard it feels like his fingers should ache. He is miles away; Thomas is surely dying, and he can’t save him.</p><p> </p><p>And then, Virgil <em> can </em>feel something. A fast, yet consistent pulse drifting through his fingers, reverberating through his joints and empty veins. A steady beat.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He begins to feel his burning lungs again, and he begins to remember to fill them. He inhales and exhales, following the pulse like his breathing is the melody to its beat.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The pace of the pulse slows, but not to an extent that worries him. He begins to hear the pulse too, only now realizing his ear is pressed into a soft shirt.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“-ll right ki-”</p><p> </p><p>“Virgil…”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“He’s okay…”</p><p> </p><p>“Virgil, if you can hear me…”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“See, Thomas’s heart is still beating. He’s okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Virgil, if you can hear me, breathe in for four seconds.”</p><p> </p><p>Virgil inhales.</p><p> </p><p>“Hold your breath for seven seconds.”</p><p> </p><p>Virgil holds his breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Breathe out for eight seconds.”</p><p> </p><p>Virgil exhales.</p><p> </p><p>“Good, Virgil. Again.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re doing great, kiddo.”</p><p> </p><p>“In for four seconds.”</p><p> </p><p>Virgil becomes more aware of his surroundings as he continues to breathe. He realises his hand is gripping someone's skin extremely tightly, so he loosens his grip. He realises there is an arm wrapped under his armpit and around his back that is keeping him from falling over, so he steadies himself on his own still shaking legs. He realises his teeth are still digging into his lower lip, so he unclenches his jaw and wills his fangs to draw away a bit. He grimaces a little when he sees the dark lines running down the blue shirt he is pressing against.</p><p> </p><p>All the while he keeps breathing, and he keeps feeling the comforting beat:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He finally pulls himself up, and is greeted by a soft smile. The arm around his back continues to hold on gently. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re alright, Virgil.” Patton promises.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Virgil replies. “Thanks. Sorry I got blood on your shirt.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s no problem at all, Virgil.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>…</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Thomas presses a few fingers to his neck as he continues to breathe. His pulse vibrates through them. He is not dying. He is going to be okay.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>…</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“What caused that, Virgil?” Logan asks.</p><p> </p><p>“It was… it was just a bad dream,” Virgil responds, honestly. “It was just a random nightmare, but I was just so sure it was going to be the end of Thomas.”</p><p> </p><p>“Humm. I’ll need to look into this further.” Logan summons a notebook and jots something down, then sends it away. “Later, though. How are you doing, Virgil?”</p><p> </p><p>“Better. Not perfect, but better.”</p><p> </p><p>“What would you like to do now?”</p><p> </p><p>Virgil looks at Patton. He looks at Patton’s wrist, still pressed under his thumb, the faint <em>lub-dub</em>s pulsing into his hand. Virgil’s own chest suddenly feels far too empty, far too still.</p><p> </p><p>“May I… may I stay here for a bit longer? To feel his heartbeat?”</p><p> </p><p>Patton smiles, gentle and warm. “Of course, kiddo.”</p><p> </p><p>Logan and Patton help steady him on his feet. They slowly walk toward Patton’s bed. Patton settles into it, and carefully pulls Virgil along. He tucks Virgil’s head against his chest, stroking the side’s hair.</p><p> </p><p>“Virgil?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmm?”</p><p> </p><p>“If you ever need to hear his heart again, please don’t be afraid to come to me. I’m happy to share it anytime, I promise.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks, Patton.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll, uh, leave you two to that?” Logan turns towards the door, glancing back at them intermittently as he goes to leave, one halting step at a time. </p><p> </p><p>Patton rolls his eyes fondly. “Logan...”</p><p> </p><p>Logan grabs the door just before he can leave. He turns back to Patton, clearly trying to hide his expectant expression. Patton reaches out his free wrist in Logan’s direction, giving him a knowing look.</p><p> </p><p>Logan sits on the edge of Patton’s bed, taking the offered wrist. He presses two fingers gently to the artery, and his shoulders noticeably relax when he locates the pulse.</p><p> </p><p>Patton lets out two quick chuckles. Virgil hums happily as he feels the vibrations of Patton’s vocal cords alongside the beat. </p><p> </p><p>Logan’s face goes a bit red as he turns away. “It’s simply practical. I <em> should </em>be monitoring the heart, after all.” He huffs.</p><p> </p><p>“My offer extends to you too, Logan. No excuses necessary.”</p><p> </p><p>“I… thank you, Patton.”</p><p> </p><p>Logan closes his eyes as he sits. Patton nestles his chin into Virgil’s hair, since he no longer has any free hands to stroke it with. Virgil takes in a deep breath, and lets it go. The longer he stays like this, the more the pulse seems to move toward his own chest. It almost feels like it is a part of him, too.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub… </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, someone on Tumblr made a joke about Logan not having a heart (it wasn't as mean as it sounds I swear!), and that got me thinking: what if Patton was the only one of them that had a heart because he <i>is</i> Thomas's heart? That eventually led me to think about what if he <i>literally</i> (or is it figuratively?) had Thomas's heart, and this fic was born. I have a few more ideas for this concept, but they're not coming as easily as this one did, so there may or may not be more stories about this in the future, we'll see.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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